


Survival

by EyeInTheDark



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Daryl, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 10:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2465138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyeInTheDark/pseuds/EyeInTheDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucky. That was an understatement. Especially when it came to a Dixon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of the characters. All I own here is the plot :)

* * *

 

He didn't even have time to process what was happening.

A moment earlier, he had taken to standing stalk still, lining up the crosshairs of the crossbow scope on a big buck, and a moment later, he was spinning around and crashing to the ground with the force of something slamming into his side, the buck long gone.

"Vengeance is mine!" an old man yelled as he tackled Daryl, brandishing a wicked-looking knife as Daryl tried desperately to fight him off. "I shall have my revenge!!"

 Daryl somehow managed to get a knee brought up enough to shove the man off, grabbing for his own knife when the older man got back up and charged at him again.

The hunter rolled to the side, tripping the deranged man, and with a burst of speed brought on by the adrenaline rushing through his veins, he stabbed the old man in the chest, falling backward, landing on his back and pushing himself up on his elbows slightly as the old man drew his final breath.

The strange man was built like a tank for as old as he had appeared to be, a ratty, tangled mess of a salt and pepper beard decorating his chin, with long stringy grayish-white hair hanging in knotted clumps, and framing his withered, sunken face.

Daryl huffed out a breath or two, the shock wearing off and the pain suddenly setting in, blossoming down his side in intense little waves of agony.

Looking down, he gasped softly, still panting as blood spread across the fabric of his shirt, running down his side at a sickeningly fast rate.

Awkwardly, Daryl dragged himself over to the nearest tree, leaning against it for support as he tried to get a look at his wounded side.

It wasn't too bad. - _Could be worse,_ he thought- The bullet had pierced cleanly through his flesh, exiting through his lower back, much like the arrow wound had on the oposite side.

 _Lucky_. That was all he could think. It could have easily pierced through his liver if it had been a few inches higher. And who was he to say that it hadn't. He was just going by how he was feeling, the angle of the holes through his flesh. He had been extremely lucky with the arrow. It had narrowly missed his spleen, and Hershel couldn't seem to let him forget it.

With a little gasp of pain, Daryl removed his coat, ripping his shirt sleeves off as he had that day in the ravine looking for Sophia, knotting them together and tying the makeshift bandage around his waist, hoping it would staunch the blood flow.

Staggering to his feet, Daryl picked up his crossbow, bending awkwardly and yanking his knife from the dead man's chest, only to drive it through his eye a second later, preventing the psycho from turning on him.

He stumbled a few steps backward, trying to regain his balance as a sudden bout of vertigo blurred his vision, causing the world to tilt dangerously to one side, making him feel sick.

Shaking his head slightly, he puffed out a soft breath, biting his lip against the pain radiating from his side and pushed forward. He couldn't stay here. Not with the gunshots and the yelling the old man had went through.

He was surprised that he hadn't made a sound. He hadn't even cried out when he was shot.

"Gotta get back..." he murmured to himself, leaning against a tree and pressing a hand to his bleeding side. "Gotta get _home_..."

As he pushed through the underbrush and tall weeds, Daryl barely even noticed the sound of hissing as five walkers staggered into the clearing behind him, falling down beside the dead man and feasting on his cooling flesh.

Lucky. That was an understatement.


	2. Chapter 2

An hour had nearly passed since his fight with that old psycho dude. Shouldn't he have made it back to the road?

Daryl stumbled over to a tree, leaning heavily against it, and moaned. He was lost. Just what he needed! Dixon luck _never_ held out.

Cursing under his breath, he brought his hand up from his aching side, blinking stupidly at the amount of blood coating his palm. If he didn't get the bleeding slowed down soon, he'd be dead before he could figure out where he was.

With a grunt of pain, Daryl tightened the makeshift bandage, cinching it up as tight as he could stand it and still be able to breathe properly.

"C'mon..." he murmured to himself as he pushed forward a few staggering steps. "You can make it..."

Another hour slipped by, and still, Daryl found himself wandering aimlessly, still unsure of where he was.

When he tripped over a stone and fell, Daryl was ready to give up.

Pushing himself into a sitting position, he leaned against a fallen tree for support, whimpering in pain and panting for breath past the agony radiating from his side.

His head lulled back, resting against the log as he got his breathing semi-under control, taking shallow breaths didn't hurt as much, and he prayed the pain would just go away.

He was so tired.

"Stop..." he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut tight as the world began to spin sickeningly. "Stop..."

"Talkin' to yourself ain't gettin' ya' nowhere, Darylina," a familiar voice broke the silence closing in around him.

"Go away..." Daryl gritted out, clutching at his side as another wave of pain overtook his form. "Jus' go away, Merle..."

His brother's laughter seemed to echo through the woods, fading into the distance as Daryl opened his eyes to find nothing but trees and underbrush looming around him.

Sighing heavily, he pushed himself to his feet, dragging his crossbow along with him as he stood, limbs trembling slightly under his own weight.

He had to get back to the prison. And fast. If he was starting to hallucinate...

"Merle's dead," he muttered to himself. "He's not here..."

"Yeah, that's what you think, little brother!" Merle's laughter continued as Daryl shook his head slightly, praying the hallucinations would just stop messing with him. "Ol' Merle's always gonna be with ya', Darylina! Now get your ass movin', princess! Walk!!"

Egged on by his hallucination, Daryl pressed forward on unsteady feet, the air growing chilly as time slowly crept on toward evening.


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was becoming gloomy when Daryl fell the second time, panting heavily as he tried to stay conscious through the pain.

"Come on, Darylina," Merle's voice echoed in his mind. "Get your ass up and keep goin'! It's not that much farther."

"I...I can't..." he moaned, tears stinging his eyes as he lay there in utter defeat, pure agony throbbing through his side.

"Quit your cryin'!" Merle growled, exasperated. "I didn't teach you to be no pansy! Get the hell up!!"

With a groan, Daryl slowly pushed himself up, only to hit the ground a third time.

"...I can't, Merle..."

Merle cursed loudly, causing Daryl to flinch.

"You wanna let the biters at ya' boy?! 'Cause that's what's gonna happen if you don't get your stupid ass in gear!!"

Daryl closed his eyes, trying to ignore his big brother. He didn't care anymore. It all hurt too much.

He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep.

"You think Officer Friendly's jus' gonna come out here lookin' for your worthless ass? Riskin' lives for useless trash like you?!"

Daryl groaned, unwilling to believe his brother's taunting words. "You're not here, Merle..." he grumbled, trying to convince himself that he was only hallucinating for the umpteenth time.

With another quiet sob of pain and misery, Daryl curled in on himself, clutching at his bleeding side, feeling alone and scared.

Merle continued to rant above him, but he didn't care. He was too exhausted.

~*~

"He should be back by now," Rick said, peering out across the prison fields as the sun began to sink behind the trees.

"He'll be back," Glenn tried to sound positive, even though he was really trying to reassure himself of that fact. "It's Daryl."

Rick payed the Korean no mind, pacing back and forth in front of the chain link seperating them from the outside world and the walkers hissing and growling ravenously on the other side.

"Maybe he's hurt..." Rick thought out loud, tone low as he scratched at his thickening beard. "Maybe he---"

"Rick!" Glenn cut him off, looking worried and angry all at once. "He's fine! It's Daryl! He can take care of himself!"

"I know that, but---"

"But nothing! He's fine. Stay positive. He'll be back in the morning."

Glenn stalked off toward the prison a moment later, leaving Rick to his own thoughts.

The ex-lawman's attention was on the road again, watching pointlessly for the truck the hunter had taken out early that morning.

_What if he wasn't alright?_

_What if he_ was _hurt?_

_What if he had been pinned down by a herd?_

_What if, what if, what if???_

Before Rick could change his mind, he was heading off toward the vehicles parked alongside the prison, dead set on his new mission.

He was going to find Daryl. Even if it did mean risking himself, he was going to find his friend. No matter what the cost.

~*~

The darkness creeping in around him was frightening in itself, but the telltale rustling of dead leaves and branches near his current location was even more terrifying.

With a pained gasp, Daryl drew his knife just as the walker came out of the bushes and fell on top of him, snarling and grabbing for him, latching onto his hair and yanking at it painfully.

An animalistic scream of agony and terror ripped from his throat as Daryl fought like a wild animal trapped in a corner against the walker pinning him to the ground, his brother's laughter filling the air around him.

"I told you, little brother!" Merle cackled. "I told you the biters would be comin' for your ass! Maybe this'll teach ya' t' listen t' ol' Merle!!"

Daryl cried all the harder when the sound of leaves crunching filled his ears. He was a goner. He just knew it. Dixon luck never held out.


	4. Chapter 4

"NO!!!" someone screamed, rage mixed with terror evident in their voice.

The next thing Daryl knew, he was being yanked forward by the walker still clutching to him, screaming in agony with the movement.

Suddenly he was falling backwards, the walker's grip on his hair and his clothes ripped away as someone dragged it away, continuing to yell, sounding almost feral as they stabbed the flesh-eater in the head, letting the body drop to the ground with a dull _thud._

Panting heavily, the person who had just saved his life dropped on their knees beside him, taking his face in their hands and cooing softly to him when he flinched.

"It's okay," Rick soothed the other man, glancing down at his blood stained side. "I'm here...You're safe...I got you..."

Daryl continued to cry, panic causing his breathing to hitch painfully in his chest. Gasping for air as his entire being was flooded with relief, he allowed himself to be comforted, feeling safe in Rick's arms.

"I got you..." Rick repeated in a whisper, stroking Daryl's hair gently. "You're alright..."

And for a moment, still wrapped in Rick's arms, Daryl thought of Merle's words. Those horrible, awful words he had tried to make Daryl believe were the truth when really, all they were were lies.

 _You're wrong, Merle,_ Daryl thought as Rick lifted him awkwardly, causing him to groan in pain. _They_ do _care..._

And after a few moments of being jostled around, Daryl could stand the pain no more. He knew nothing more as he drifted into unconsciousness, feeling safe in Rick's strong arms as the other man carried him back to the vehicle he'd taken out in search of him.

~*~

When Daryl passed out just before reaching the truck, Rick got him situated on the back seat and fairly dove into the drivers seat, stepping on the gas pedal harder than he should and speeding dangerously back to the prison while praying harder than he ever had in his entire life.

There were walkers at the front gate upon their arrival, but someone had noticed he was gone and was waiting, Glenn and Maggie banging on the fence, making the walkers follow them away from the gate as Tyreese and Carol opened it for him.

Once he had parked the truck and carried Daryl inside, Hershel set to work.

It would be a long night, but Rick felt relief wash over him when the old man was able to stop the blood flow a few minutes after bringing Daryl in and laying him out on a table in the common room.

~*~

Daryl lay pale and motionless all through the night, still sprawled out on the table he had been placed on the night before, his skin almost as white as the bandage Hershel had wrapped around his waist.

He hadn't stirred, and Hershel said it wouldn't be wise to move him just yet, so Rick stayed close, keeping vigil over the unconscious hunter through the night, refusing to go to bed when someone came to relieve him.

It was early morning when he felt the hand he had been holding twitch under his own palm.

Looking up, Rick was greeted by the sight of Daryl's eyes fluttering, then finally cracking open enough to roll sluggishly around in his head, taking in the entire room before landing on Rick.

The hunter blinked stupidly at him for a second, looking very much confused.

"Wha---???" Daryl slurred, his head lulling to the side as Rick stood up, placing a calming hand on the other man's bare shoulder.

"It's alright Daryl, just relax."

Daryl whimpered softly when he tried to lift his arm and it flopped uselessly by his side, appearing to be too heavy for him to lift. His eyes slipped closed again as another small whine of distress escaped his throat.

"It's okay, it's just the pain medicine Hershel gave you," Rick soothed, trying to hide the amused smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're not in pain, are you?"

Daryl shook his head 'no' after a few seconds, the movement barely there, but enough to ease Rick's worries considerably.

"We thought we were gonna lose you there for a little bit," Rick sighed, squeezing Daryl's bicep lightly and smiling when the hunter batted at him, giving him the weakest shove, his face scrunched up as if he were annoyed, eyes remaining closed.

"Alright, alright," Rick chuckled. "I'll let you sleep for a little while longer. We'll get you into a bed later. It's still pretty early."

"That'd be nice..." Daryl slurred slightly, sighing as he relaxed fully.

"Good t' have ya' back, man...we were really worried about you..." Rick murmured sincerly.

"Good t' be back..." Daryl mumbled just before falling asleep again.

He was safe. These people cared about him. And that was all that mattered. Nothing else did at that point. Even in his mind, Merle had lied to him and left him behind. But these people...they were different. They actually cared.

Daryl was happy. He wasn't really in pain anymore, Herhsel's "wonder drugs" had taken care of that, and he was safe. He was with his new found family. He was home.


End file.
